The Romance Continues

2000 miles and five days later JT arrived in Shreveport, LA. Each mile had been a matter of sheer will, supressing the fear of a vehicle that seemed to be likely and wanting to self destruct at the most godforsaken place available. To escape the heat, JT traveled at night. By day he parked and curled underneath the Rover to sleep. As the nights passed, the Rover's dash became a littered ashtray of cigarette butts. Being passed by retirees in Winnabagos, the Rover had plodded along like the good Rover it was, a broken MotoGuzzi on it's back, a white-knuckled driver at it's wheel.

I ran into JT in a Mexican restaurant about three weeks later. After the usual exchange, he told me he had something I had to see. JT is a consumate fabricator, dreamer, and sculptor, as well as biker, so I took him at his word and went.

He had been trying to sell the Rover, but again, had no takers. Nobody seemed to know or care what it was. Most thought it was some type of odd postal jeep. There it sat, forlorn with a for sale sign in its windscreen. I had worked on the occasional Triumph, Austin Healey, and had even stuffed a Chevy 327 into a MGA in my crazed youth. I knew enough about British cars to be wary, but I was in love.

MBX807 quarter view She was a 1965 Series IIA 88 inch LandRover, license Oregon MBX807, with a 2.25 liter engine, a gearbox that had never been opened, springs protruding through the vinyl and burlap upholstery, no interior trim whatsoever, and a thousand ominous sounds and smells. But she ran, and had proven herself in JT's trial of desperation. She was wild, untamed, rugged, and a survivor. I had to have her........

Next [ A Journey Begins ] [ The Rover Finds A Home ]
[ A Deal Is Struck ] [ Beula Joins The Family ] [ The Search For J.T. ]
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